The Many Sides of a Word
by The Starving Writer
Summary: Five vignettes, ranging from 100 to 500 words. An eddy in the river of dreams. A heart saturnine for what it's never felt. An unloved inamorata. A legerdemain with a secret he can't hide. An arguseyed watcher whose vision pierces time. COMPLETE.
1. Eddy

_**A/N: **It seems once the drabble bug has bitten, it doesn't let go. So, in the vein of One Hundred in Twenty, I give you a collection of "Word of the Day" inspired vignettes. _

_Enjoy!_

_**TSW

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**_

**Word 1: Eddy- **a current at variance with the main current in a stream of liquid or gas, esp. one having a rotary or whirling motion.

* * *

She's different than most girls. He can see it in her dreams. While so many seem to rush by in a monochromatic river, hers wind like bright ribbons, rebellious, swirling eddies in the mass.

There's nothing original about knights and castles. No, the difference lies after the sunrise. Because when other dreams have been reduced to shard of memory, when they've faded to bare, vague emotion, hers linger. They flourish even in her waking mind. The people live, the music plays, and roses grow on the hedges.

The day she joins the current will be the day the roses die.


	2. Saturnine

_**Saturnine- "**sluggish in temperament; gloomy; taciturn"- such a sad love, there in your eyes…

* * *

Sarah looks deep into her mirror. Is there truth in his song? Does she really seem so saturnine? There's no reason for her to be, though she likes to think so sometimes. No boy's ever gotten the chance to break her heart._

"Perhaps, therein lies the problem."

The avian-faced King of her dreams meets her reflection with knowing sympathy.

"Maybe your pain comes not from a broken heart, but from one that was never whole to begin with."

She doesn't bother to turn and face him. By his nature, he's probably not there at all. "But I don't feel sad."

"Not now, maybe. But you will Sarah." He sighs. "It's tragic, the loss of innocence. When you finally realize that you miss what you didn't have."

"And I suppose you want to be the one to give it to me."

He tilts his head, amused. "Don't leap so easily to conclusions. I offered only a suggestion." His face turns serious. "I cannot protect from everything, anymore. You passed up that chance."

And then he's gone. All that's left is an aching emptiness in a part of her mind she's never known.


	3. Inamorata

_**Inamorata- **lover or beloved woman: a woman whom somebody loves or with whom somebody has a romantic relationship

* * *

"Do you love me?"_

"Do you want me to?"

She sits up in bed and glares at his morning-sun silhouette. "Why do you insist on answering everything with a question?"

"Why do you insist on asking?"

With a growl of frustration, she slumps back on the pillows. Somehow, their conversations always end up like this. After so many years, she's gotten sick of talking to a mirror.

The mattress doesn't shift under his graceful figure, but she can feel him sit down beside her. "Must I say the words for them to be true? Words can be manipulated, as you know well. They have layers and loopholes and false implications. You'd be much happier trusting in actions."

She says nothing, just closes her eyes and lets him stroke her jawbone. The morning grows old, their lives go on, and he never says the words.

Home in the real world, she paces her bedroom until the walls melt together and the floor turns to glass. She would like to be content with what she has, but it will simply never satisfy her. She wants more than a castle and a fairytale at her feet. She wants his heart, his love and loyalty. To own his emotions the way he holds her dreams.

It's an impossible desire, and she knows it. Jareth may grant her every whim, but in the end he's as hard to posses as the moonlit fog outside her window.

"You infatuate me, Sarah," he croons in her ear. She shivers at his sudden appearance. Here among the relics of her childhood he looks like a shining demon freed from Hell. His presence is too big for the room, and strained wood creaks in protest. "Isn't that enough?"

"Enough," she replies stoically, "Is something you could never give me."


	4. Legerdemain

_**Legerdemain- **a display of skill or cleverness, especially for deceitful purposes; sleight of hand

* * *

Jareth lounged on a balcony, eyes focused with glass-edged intensity on something that wasn't there. His fingers stroked the air into a crystal ball. He rolled it along his gloved hand for a moment before it lost his interest and he sent it unceremoniously back to where it came from._

"I despise those who skulk in the shadows," he said. "Step forward."

"Yes, yes, sorry, You Highness," Hoggle said nervously. "You wanted to see me?"

Jareth didn't bother to turn around. He was too engrossed by a wild rose, plucked from the tower-scaling vines. He watched as it changed size in his hand, as if by its own will.

"Uh, Your Highness?"

"Yes," he said, so suddenly that Hoggle jumped. "I understand that you have contact with the Aboveground girl."

"Miss Sarah?" The dwarf scowled defensively. "What if I did?"

"Don't try to protect her, Puggle. You'll only get yourself in trouble." He wound the rose back into the tangle of vines. "Besides, I have no intention of harming her. I only want her surveyed."

"You want me to spy on her? But she's just a girl, really. What harm could she do?"

"What harm could she do?" In the space of a second, Jareth swung over the railing and landed towering over Hoggle. "She conquered the Labyrinth and destroyed my castle almost entirely by herself." He laughed bitterly. "Oh, she can do more harm than your simple mind could ever comprehend."

Hoggle flinched, but stood his ground. "It ain't right," he grumbled.

"Do you really think I have no other way of watching her? I don't have to be so kind."

"I won't do it." Hoggle crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Pity. I'll need to find a new gardener." Jareth flicked his wrist, and the dry leaves beneath the dwarf's feet roared to flame.

"Alright! Alright!" Hoggle hopped out of the fire. "But I still think its wrong."

Jareth returned to the railing as the leaves burned out.

Sir Didymus watched his king from the courtyard below with something almost like sympathy. Since the Rebuilding, all had turned back to normal. All but Jareth. He'd been…humbled, somehow, and he wasn't happy about it.

For all his illusions and sleight-of-hand , even the Goblin King couldn't hide everything from the knight's good eye. Didymus saw, and he knew.

The Lady Sarah had left a mark too deep to vanish away.


	5. ArgusEyed

_**Argus-Eyed- **ever-watchful_

* * *

She opens her eyes to a room made of mirrors. Every surface, from the floor to the ceiling to the sharp-angled furniture, dazzles her with bottomless silver planes. 

"Welcome back, Sarah." A thousand Jareths stand around her, dressed in gray and undeniable power. She turns, searching for the real Goblin King. If there is one at all.

Decades have passed since she last saw him, at least outside fragmented dreams that crumbled in the morning sun. But he's not one to be forgotten, and every angle of his face is as she remembered. It's almost like she's never outgrown him. Then she realizes. The pain in her joints is gone. Her breath doesn't rattle in her chest. She looks into the nearest mirror.

A smooth-faced fourteen-year-old looks back.

"Where am I?"

"In a hospital bed," he replies.

"So this isn't real?"

He smiles cryptically. "It's only as real as you believe it to be."

"What is this place?"

Jareth and his infinite reflections spread there arms dramatically. "This is the Hall of Windows."

"Windows? But there aren't any…"

"Sarah, Sarah." He clicks his tongue reproachfully. "You know better than to make such an assumption. Look closer."

Cautiously, she leans over a small table. The surface begins to ripple and fad until she's peering through a pane of clear glass.

"_Congratulations, Mrs. Tucker." _

_Sarah smiles until tears pour down her face as she accepts the squalling pink bundle. With shaking fingers, she strokes the tiny hands, the round red face. "She's beautiful." _

"Don't think I haven't been watching you, Sarah," Jareth says. He touches her shoulder, and the imposters fade back to their mirrors.

"Why?"

"Because I've invested far too muck interest in your affairs to abandon you." He motioned to the room around them. "I have always kept an eye on you, though you didn't know it. I've seen everything."

"Everything?"

"If you're referring to your husband, yes, I know."

"You're not jealous, then?"

He laughs gently. "Only a little. It won't be long before you're mine again."

"So the surgery…"

"I'm sorry, Sarah." He runs his fingers through her hair, hair that in reality is thinned and white. "But such is mortality."

She feels no surprise. Just resignation. For a few minutes, she loses herself in the room of memories. _Christmas in the snow. Weddings, births, and funerals. _

"It was a good life," he assures her. "As a watcher on the outside, I can promise you nothing could have made you happier."

She stands up. "I'm ready."

"Goodbye, Sarah," he says, and kisses her hand.

Surrounded by a life she's about to see for the last time, she can't help it. She starts to cry.

He lets her quench her regret with tears. When she's done, he brushes off her face with satin gloves. "Do not fear. This is but a door, to a greener and brighter existence. You must leave today to greet tomorrow."

He releases her. "Now go, and know I'll be waiting on the other side."


End file.
